Migraine, again
by JosieStyle
Summary: Neal has a migraine. But the bureau wouldn't let him rest. Because they need Nick Halden to catch a almost uncatchable jewel thief. Will this operation go as planned?
1. Chapter 1

"Where were you this morning Caffrey? We had a deal, " said Peter from the coffee maker. Neal walked slowly into the canteen. With a sigh he sat in the first chair he saw.

"Says the man who checked each hour where I am," muttered the ex-con and threw his leg on the table so that his anklet was flashing visible. Agent Burke just grinned and poured two mugs with the bitter and warm fluid that was probably hot for a while.

Striding he sat at the table where his partner was and put the mugs down. Neal had never looked at him and had the collar of his shirt pulled up as he gave a sly look. Finally Peter realized that something was wrong with him.

"Hey, do me a favor," grumbled Peter and poked at his shoe. Neal immediately took the hint and sat back in his chair civilized. His face remained bent over and the frown on his forehead was new. Then Peter began to understand it and took a noisy sip of his coffee before he said: "Was it fun last night?"

Neal sighed and raised his head just far enough to look right in to Peter's eyes. Peter couldn't hide his smile when he saw the dark circles around the tired blue eyes of his partner .

"I hate you, Peter," grumbled the younger man with a hoarse voice. "And I don't have a hangover."

Peter raised an eyebrow and took another sip of the bitter liquid. "Hmm. No Hangover. That reminds me, Neal, you said to me recently that you had never lied to me. Not really. Or was that just another lie?" It was meant as a joke. But Neal did not face. So, yes. There was something wrong with this CI.

Two other officers arrived and walked into the cafeteria. They began to groan when they saw that the last coffee was already consumed. Peter watched them when they had acknowledged that there was a better coffee shop, outside this building. And they got into the elevator.

When Peter was facing back to his partner he saw that the younger man massaged the sides of his head. Peter sighed and his grin faded.

"Listen, Caffrey. If you are sick, you know, or have a hangover, you should report that to me. Then I would have given you a day off. I can't use you all moody like this, anyway." Neal groaned irritated and blinked. "I'm not sick. And I don't have a hangover." That was his answer before he closed his eyes and his whole head was now rested on his arm. Peter sighed again. With one hand he pushed the coffee at Neal. "Neal. Everyone get sick sometimes. You're no superhero. If I'm not mistaken you never had taken a sick-day yet."

Neal didn't answer but had heard him. He flexed his shoulders at the word _sick_.

Peter finally gave up and looked at his watch. The break was over. And he had an appointment with the boss. With a stiff movement he rose from the chair and pushed him backwards. Before he left he gave Neal a pat on his shoulder.

"Come to my office in an hour, okay? I think we have a new case that can cheer you up a bit. I just know it." He meant well. He smiled when he said that. And Neal had also understood that without actually seeing his soft smile.

"Thanks, Peter. But I'm not gloomy. I-I ... I'll tell you later. See you soon." His voice was muffled with his arm pressed to his forehead, like that. He didn't really move and that worried Peter a little more than he liked. Peter blinked his eyes suspicious while he took a step towards the boss's office.

"Good. See you about an hour, Caffrey. Take it easy, for me, will you?"

Neal then nodded his head and moaned softly in that action. But Peter was too far away to hear him.

Peter was right. It was a new case where the boss wanted to talk about. One of the biggest jewel thieves was in town. And he had already robbed fifteen stores for diamonds, gold and rubies. Apparently Nick Halden had connections to these unattainable thief and it was time for some undercover action. But when Peter walked into his office and saw that Neal was nowhere in sight, he wondered whether the CI is needed a bit of action. He sighed, looked at his watch and saw that the conversation had run a little longer. They were a half an hour further. So Neal may had been here the whole time and could equally have gone to the toilet or something like that. Knowing that Neal was always moving around and never stayed in a place for five minutes like a normal person. No, Neal had no acquiescent person. Unless he was ill ...

Just when Peter decided to go find his partner Jones walked into his office with wide eyes. "Peter, maybe this is a stupid question but ... why is Neal Caffrey lying down on the ground in one of the hearing rooms?" Peter's expression was firm and tense.

"Caffrey? Where?" Jones blinked his eyes. "Uh. Follow me."

The lighting was muted and the chairs were pushed aside. Under the table was the infamous Neal Caffrey sprawled on the floor in some kind of light sleep. His eyes were closed. But his expressions on his face were far too alert for someone who was asleep.

'Neal! What are you doing down there? This room should be free for recitations." grumbled Peter sternly. Jones was somewhat subtler and walked to the younger man to wake him.

"Everything all right there, Caffrey? You look a little… you look far to pale."

Neal came back to life and was totally not pleased with his visit-storm a la Peter Burke. With difficulty he scrambled up and ran his best suit right. "I just closed my eyes for a bit. Is that so terrible?" was his grim answer. His voice was so broken and thin that Jones even began to chuckle.

"Wow. Someone here has a hangover," he grinned. Peter shrugged to his colleague but began to doubt. Neal stood now straight in front of Peter and looked at him apologetically. The deep frown was worrisome enough to cause this to cease Neal for answers what was going on with him.

"Okay, Neal. This is the right place to ask you what is wrong." Neal looked around. Hearing room. He got it. But again, Neal didn't grin, smirk or chuckle.

"It ... It's just a migraine. That is all. It started tonight. But I thought it was better this morning." Jones frowned and offered the CI some chair, immediately.

"Oh, Buddy. Those things are Nasty. Sit down, man." Peter looked at Jones with a sidelong glance.

'Migraine? Isn't that a woman thing? " Neal did not answer and decided to sit on the chair Jones had offered.

"Are you kidding me, Peter? A migraine makes you feel like your head is going to explode, man.  
Picture a normal headache ... visualize that ten times worse. A migraine is no fun." Neal dropped his head against the backrest of the seat rest and looked at Jones, smiling slightly (or what looked like smiling). "Well, thank you, Jones. Sounds like you have them a lot." Jones shook his head, grinning.

"Man. Everytime my mother comes to visit with her new, and to young husband." Peter nodded and watched as his partner grew paler. "Okay. Sorry, Neal. A migraine is not a women thing. Come. I'll take you home. Your day at the office is over." Neal wanted to resist him, when Peter stood up, and hoisted himself of the chair as quick as possible. To find his way to the mensroom. Fast. Peter and Jones saw it happen. Neal was as white as the walls and when he began to move true the building his pale color changed to light green. Gagging Neal drove himself through the toilet door and Jones looked bewildered at his boss.

"Ow, Peter. I believe your CI needs a bit of soda before you drive him around in your car. Soda helps relieve some of the nausea. And some mints would be a good plan, too. Trust me, Peter. I will get it for you."

"Will that work?"

"It works for me, every time." Peter nodded to his colleague and decided, after some doubt, to go to his partner and accompany him before Neal drowned himself in one of the toilet bowls.

Peter was not surprised to find Neal half-conscious onto the ground, hanging forward to a toilet seat. At least he was not vomiting anymore. And Peter was grateful for that. With soft fit he knelt down beside him and laid a comforting hand on his drooping shoulders. Neal opened his eyes to see a smiling Peter.

Neal was warm and clammy of his effort. The plain purple tie was loosened a bit and the top two buttons of his white undershirt were opened.

Neal was not happy.

"Ooohhh ... P-Peter. Do you really have to see me like this?" wailed the younger man. With a trembling hand he rubbed his face and looked upset when he stroked his wavy hair in to place. "I feel better now. Just give me a minute, okay?" Peter frowned at him suspiciously. He looked somewhat better than before but Peter knew that he only tried to look strong for him and his fellow colleagues. Neal was trying to con his way out. But Peter was not to be fooled. "Nice try, Neal." He had to go to bed and sit this migraine out. He was not worth turd.

When he saw the younger man was ready to leave this place he supported him a bit and helped him out of the toilet. Suddenly Peter began to chuckle softly. "What?" asked the paled younger man.

"The infamous Neal Caffrey. Disabled by a woman ailment." Neal put his stride and looked annoyed at his partner. "P-Peter It's ... it's not -"

"No woman ailment. Ya. I know. I was just teasing you, kid." Neal nodded after a long moment, and walked further. His unstable steps were closely held by him and Jones. By the time Neal took a seat in the Taurus, Jones gave the younger man a can of cola.

"That's good for you. Believe me, man." Neal blinked and nodded gratefully. Then the door was pushed shut. When Peter had crawled behind the wheel Neal had put on a big seized sunglasses and drank from the can with small sips. "Neal? Shouldn't we go to the doctor first? For, ya know… medicine?" Neal gently shook his head.

"No. June has sleeping pills. They'll do the trick. This is not the first time for me." Peter nodded. Before he started the car, he looked again at the deep frown on Neal's face. The man was in pain. He wondered why he had to come to work with his migraine, this morning. And why he didn't call in sick. If he has had a migraine, more often, he had to know better than that.

"Hey, why are we still standing here, Peter? Come on and drive already." Neal muttered grimly. His face turned whiter again. Despite Peter suspicion that he might vomit again in his Taurus, he started the car. Meanwhile, Neal bravely took a few sips of cola. With a several soft hiccups and coughs his sick feeling was diminished by the cola. "If you see Jones. Tell him that he was right ... but Peter. Just so you know. Do not drive too hard on the thresholds, this time. I am not quite okay."

"You have my word, Caffrey. I don't let my beautiful car get ruined by a puking conman. You know me better than that." He teased him a bit. Caffrey knew him all too well. But Neal also knew that Peter squeaked quite different if he really puked.

AN: here we are again! This time I tried to translated this story for you guys. Was it good and readable? Or not? Let me know what you think, ok?

X

Josi


	2. Chapter 2

There was enough traffic on the road that caused Peter to drive very slowly. Neal doesn't mind that at all. Peter has always been a reckless driver. Well… not really. But he takes a lot of turning at full speed, to Neal's annoyance. And Neal didn't know way Peter does that. He just did that. A lot. And he couldn't handle that right now. Neal was not able to suck it all in like he always does. Minimize movement made his head pound even harder. Migraine sucks! And Neal already was beginning to see double with different colors and stuff. And he was very nauseous right now. And again… he had everything under control, though. But when Peter grew more and more frustrated by the slow traffic, he began grumble to the others and pressed the brakes and speed with every second. And worst of all, Peter began with tapping impatiently against his steering wheel and _that_ made Neal's headache even worse than before. So he raised himself a bit from his seat and looked annoyed to his partner. Peter didn't saw his deep and painful frown.

"C-can you stop?" Neal moaned softly as he covered his ears moaning. Peter made a cursory glance at his partner on the left side and clucked his tongue before he drew a grin.

"Well, well. Neal Caffrey is never sick. But when he is he is a spoiled brat. Sorry princess. But the traffic is not really our friend today. And that makes me just a little nervous." Neal nodded softly and rubbed his forehead. "Yes. I see that. B-but please. That ticking sound only makes it worse …" Peter's face softened when he saw the paled face of Neal. That was when Peter decided to wait no longer and made a sharp right to a different road. A much longer one for sure, but with no traffic at all. Peter was pleased. With a grin he looked at his partner again.

'Finally free. There. A free road. Now I am back in my studs, you see? No more ticking from me. That's a promise. You see that, buddy? We're almost at your ridiculously large apartment, okay? You can go back to your delicious Italian roast coffee at any second now. And zip it all away with that nice young art student." There was no response. And Peter chewed on his lip. He knew he wasn't nice at the younger man. Maybe it wasn't his day. But he couldn't resist teasing his CI. It was not often that the man next to him was so vulnerable. And all those times he wasn't the best and Neal teased him about cholesterol and stuff, he had to keep these things in... But now, all that frustration came right out. He hadn't noticed that Neal had become gradually more restless until he again ventured a glance at his partner. The younger man had his head bent forward and looked as grayish white like Neal had just walked out from a movie set, painted like some sort of zombie. A horrible feeling bubbled through him and Peter's grim gaze thawed.

'Neal? ... Hey Neal ...? "

"... C-can you s-st... Stop the car! ... Stop now ... Peter? ... oh God ..." Neal squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed his mouth with both hands. With wide eyes Peter parked his Taurus on the side of the road. Some cars honked angrily at this sudden halt. Panting and moaning Neal barely looked toward the door latch and Peter leaned over to help him. With a dive landing Neal threw himself out of the Taurus. He fell on the floor gagging and started crawling across the sidewalk and made it just in time to the grass where he threw out all his stomach contents. Passersby stopped and searched as a statement by the open door to look inside, where Peter was watching Neal behind his steering wheel. They looked angry at him and he felt so guilty for not helping him that he smiled sheepishly at them and mumbled some sort of apology before he went out of his car to help his sick partner. Before someone reported him to the police.

"Sir? Are you okay? Should we call an ambulance? " asked a runner jogging in a pink tunic and Neal looked up at her. But when he wanted to reply he was interrupted by a second embarrassing vomit attack. That was the moment when Peter arrived. Poor Neal, he thought.

"It's okay, miss. He belongs to me. I am with the police." He just waved his badge before he joined the gagging man. When the runner hesitant plugged her ears back on and walked away nodding, like the rest of the audience, he accustomed himself to the poor man. Neal was now sitting on his knees and was barely capable of holding himself upright. "Ugh ... I am not well, Peter," lamented Neal soft and broken. For the first time today, Peter looked at his partner with a pity look.

"Yes ... I can see that." He reached out a hand to help him up but Neal rejected him.

"No ... I don't think I can hold it all in right now ... Ifeel'so sick ..." Peter sighed worried.

"That bad, huh?" Neal shrugged his shoulders and moaning was now on his haunches. Peter stared at the dirty stains on his pants from crawling onto the floor. That was something that he never thought Neal would do. Certainly not with this kind of expensive suit. "God, Neal. June is gonna be mad at you." Neal apparently could not care less. Maybe he just wasn't aware of what he just did. Neal was so out of it. Peter almost thought it was funny to see him hunched over like an animal on the ground were everyone just saw him puke. But Peter knew this wasn't funny at all. He needed to go home and get some rest. So Peter sighed deeply. Neal's head was still hunched over to the ground. But he had finally stopped gagging. That was good. But the poor guy was now completely exhausted.

Peter let his hand rest on his shoulder. "Come on, buddy. Let's get you home."

"G-give me a moment."

Peter waited. He kept a good eye on him. It was difficult to say whether he was about to pass out. Or scrambled up immediately on his own. Peter was not surprised for both actions. This was, after all Neal Caffrey. Everything was possible.

Neal finally heaved a deep sigh and came off the ground. With a hand over his eyes and a hand in search for the car he shuffled forward. Peter followed him on foot and escorted the younger man to his seat.

"Are you okay? Do you want some water? Or a zip from your Coke? Or… Maybe a mint?" Neal paused at the Taurus and began to feel in his pockets. He pulled out a pack of gum.

He took one and then slumped back in his car seat. When Peter took his place behind the steering wheel and started his Taurus again, Neal took off his sunglasses. In a quick glance Peter saw Neal's red rimmed eyes.

'Peter. I-I think I feel a little better now ..." Neal mumbled softly. Peter sighed with relief.

"That's good, buddy."

They drove in silent for a long time. When Peter stopped at the door of the big house he noticed that Neal had fallen asleep. His head pressed against the window with his mouth hung open a bit. With a grimace he saw the gum still sticking to his palate. It was almost laughable. But, my god, the man looked like hell. Peter coughed as if trying to wake his partner. When he failed Peter began to pat him gently on the shoulder and that did the trick. In a quick reflex Neal shot up and had significantly immediately regretted. Groaning, he grabbed his apparently throbbing head. "Ah, Pet'r… Are we home, yet?" he asked softly. Peter clicked his door open. When he was at Neal's side and opened his door he answered him with a chuckle.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Neal. You looked a lot more peaceful than now." Neal grunted when he got out of the Taurus and held the roof a bit until he had found his balance again.

'N-no worries. Pills ... ... I go…to June, Peter. " Neal walked to the fence and Peter was close by. Ready to catch him when it went wrong. The younger man was so fragile and unstable at this moment. He looked like he could pass out any minute.

Once inside, Neal immediately wanted to walk up the stairs but Peter stopped him. "First, you are going to sit down on this bench. I am going to find June and tell her about your condition. So she can keep an eye on things until you are feeling better." Neal didn't agree. But indecisive he let himself lead to the couch. Once he sat down again Neal gave a sigh with relieve. It was nice and dark in the receiving room. So much better than the outside. And when Peter walked away for a moment, Neal gently rubbed his forehead.

By the time Peter came back in the receiving room with June Neal has already gone into a deep sleep. His head rested against the edge of the seat-back and was slightly tilted to the left. He had his knees bent and his arms folded on his chest. He was so deeply asleep and little squeaky noises came from his nostrils.

And Peter didn't like to admit this, but he was actually a little cute.

"Oh, the poor kid. I take a blanket and a pillow from the sore room." Peter nodded at the friendly old landlady. See gave the heavy sleeping pills to him as she walked away and Peter put them down on the coffee table next to sleeping beauty. With a grin on his face he stared at Neal's traveling and falling chest. Unconsciously he shook his head. _Neal Caffrey. It was a genius. But also just a man._

It was not long before Peter decided to take off the shoes of his partner and loosen his tie a bit. Neal didn't wake. Even when he and June made him more comfortable with a soft pillow from his own bed and a warm blanket from the guest room. Neal was totally out of it. Without the sleeping pills.

June took Peter to a big table in a room near the couch where Neal was sleeping. One of her maids had put on some coffee and she offered a cup to Peter.

"Thank you for taking care of that poor boy. He is so stubborn. This morning I figured that something was wrong with him. I heard from my staff that Mr. Caffrey was not on time for his breakfast. He has not eaten. And I didn't hear him go this morning. Usually he says goodbye to me. " Peter shrugged and smiled at the older woman.

"Yes, he was not as articulate at work. Not even close. That in itself is something to worry about. Neal is never quiet. Apparently a migraine is just about the only thing to get him silent. " He just laughed. June laughed with him.

"Poor guy. This is the third time I find him like this since he lives here. But no worries, agent Burke. He is in good hands. He's usually back in order after some sleep. When he wakes up at once I bring him upstairs." Peter nodded, but was surprised about one thing.

"The third time?"

June nodded.

"The first time was during the week that you and your wife were on vacation. Mr. Caffrey told me that when I found him sleeping in the same couch. The second time was, I believe, on a Sunday. When he did not have to go to work. And, well ... the rest you know already." The old lady finished her coffee cup with small sips. And Peter did the same.

"Okay. I am going back to the office, if you don't mind. Please call me if Neal is able to work again. We need him out there. We just had a new case. And thanks for the coffee, June."

June and Peter walked towards the door. But when Peter came across his sleeping partner he remained still for a moment. He saw that Neal was now slightly more slumped into the couch. One arm was now dangling at his side, his fingers barely touched the ground. The box of sleeping pills were now on his lap, for some reason. So maybe Neal did actually wake up for a moment to get one of the pills for a better shuteye? Really? Peter nodded unconsciously. He'll bounce back. Here he was in good hands. He was no longer needed. So Peter decides to go back to the office and figure out a plan to catch this new jewel thief.

And so Peter decided to return to the office.

AN: a next chapter is coming soon! Let me know what you think of my translated story: migraine, alweer. For the record. I'm Dutch.

X

Josi


	3. Chapter 3

When Peter was back on the road again to return to the office his thoughts wandered back to the moment his partner came stumbling into the canteen, like an old man. He barely made it to the chair at the time. It gave Peter a strange kneading feeling in his stomach because he knew that he hadn't been nice to Neal when he had to.

Just then his cell phone ring. With a click on the speaker button he recognized the number from his wife. With a smile, he straightened his back.

"Hey, hun. How did it go with your catering appointment this morning?" he asked with interest. Elizabeth had received a large order that was attached to a really complex wish list. She talked about this all night when they were snuggled up in bed with to each other. She was up very early this morning to make everything as good as possible, with this huge budget. Peter knew his wife was pretty worked up over this and smiled when he heard her sigh. She said she would call him if everything was over. And Peter was all ears.

"Oh Honey. It was so embarrassing. I had given the order and it turns out that I had done it earlier this week. Now we're stuck with a lot of salmon. I told the client that something has gone wrong in the communication and he didn't mind. But I do! If there are a lot of leftovers I have to get rid of it, myself. I am talking about sixteen salmon boxes, Peter. The excess salmon shall be delivered back at our house tomorrow. So I hope you have no other plans with Neal, tomorrow. I thought maybe it was a good idea if you invite him for dinner tomorrow? Maybe he could bring his friend Mozzie, also. And I hope you love salmon, Peter? God, hun. I'm so pooped." Peter laughed softly, amused by the story his wife told him and he suddenly drove a lot softer. He even didn't realize that he was stuck in traffic again. Now that he was with the best company in the world, there was no tension.

'El ... calm down. I love salmon. You know that. It's okay, honey. With so much left we can give some to the food bank, a few blocks away from us. No problem. But Hun ... calm down. Everybody makes a mistake now and then. That can happen to everyone. And fortunately there are no men over board with a little miscalculation in the catering. Look ... if I make a miscalculation..."

"Honey..." It paused and Peter felt the tension rise and his smile faded. That was the moment that Peter knew he had said something wrong.

"Are you saying that my work is not to be taken as seriously? Compared to your work? '

'Oh great ... Well done, Peter' he thought to himself.

"Honey. Sorry I-I ... what I meant to say is that we can solve this problem. Look, the food bank will be happy. It was not my intention to belittle you, honey. Please..." Peter fell silent. His gaze wandered down to the passenger seat where a very quiet Caffrey had been there, just a few minutes ago.

Peter was startled out of his thoughts by hearing his name call twice over the phone. And he blinked.

'I-it's Neal, " he said slightly distracted. He didn't what else to say. But apparently this was enough information for his wife to turn this conversation to another direction.

She clicked her tongue and just sighed.

"What has he done now?" she asked with her voice low and even. Peter grinned at the phone.

"The man came in this morning with a migraine." There was a crack on the other side of the phone and he heard his wife sigh. Her mood changed immediately.

"Oh, poor baby. Is he okay?"

"I just dropped him off at home. My apologies, hun. I wasn't thinking. Your work is very important."

"Oh, Hun. I understand. And Yes I you are forgiven. But about Neal and his migraine. My sister had them a lot. These things can be pretty bad. Does he have the right medication? My sister knows a good doctor. If you want me to call her, I can. Neal can see the doctor this afternoon if that is necessary. I can arrange an appointment. With my organizational talents It shouldn't be a problem." Peter thought about what Neal said. He said: _there was no medication for migraine_. But that was just another con, Peter realized. Knowing that Neal hated drugs and doctors. So Peter shook his head several times, until he realized that El could not see him.

"No, not necessary, El. He has his sleeping pills from June and a whole staff that can take care of him. It is not your concern. The man is a criminal, remember. I am pretty sure that he can take care of himself."

"Honey. It's no problem. Moreover, we both know he is not a criminal. I have found the number of doctor Trump already. So I am going to call him right now. Neal can thank me later. Bye, Hun. I'll call you back when I have arranged an appointment."

"El ..." sighed Peter. But the line was disconnected. If Elizabeth wanted something, then you could better not stand in the way. Peter knew that. But he wondered if Neal was okay with it. Maybe his migraine had finished after his afternoon nap. Leaving El with all that trouble for nothing.

It was after all only a Migraine.

Peter hit a left at the next corner and drove to the office.

XXX

Hughes was in his office waiting for him with Jones when he climbed the steps. With a quickened pace, he joined the conversation.

"Hey? Is there more news about our jewel thief? "asked Peter alert. Both men looked startled at him. Those glances told him enough. That usually meant that he was right.

Jones took the floor almost immediately.

"Our jewel thief, Michael Brendan, has stricken again. It happened ten minutes ago, right around the corner from the center. Diana is on team and covered the aria, already. Nothing is found so far. But… There are some captured images on some security cameras. The extra ones, that we ordered the stores to place them just in case." Peter nodded pleased.

"Good. That is good." Peter took a puzzled look to the deep frown of his boss. Hughes sighed.

"But what is also not enough to go on, and apart from the fact that Diana and her team may still find some traces, the man is a genius. This is not the first time he passes to our nose, Peter," Hughes said. Peter nodded again. He saw the gravity of it.

"Peter. Migraine or not, we need Nick Halden to provoke the man." Jones and Hughes looked at him gravely. And Peter sighed. Neal had to come back to the office. Peter felt a knob in his stomach. The poor man had just been dropped off at home. He had probably taken more sleeping pills that would knock him out for a couple of hours. And what Peter had seen of Neal, the poor guy was unable to occur as Nick Halden. Or drive around in a car without puking, ones or twice.

Peter felt bad for him.

"How much time do I have to get him here?"

The look of Hughes was gloomy.

"Just get him here as soon as possible. Tell him I'm sorry. If this is over he will get a week off. Okay? But don't tell him that if he doesn't ask." Peter nodded. _'Yah right'_ Peter inner voice went. _'As if that did him some good.'_

During his returning journey, the road seemed to be even closer. He had made some phone calls to kill time. El was not at Neal's yet, but was on her way, and had decided not to call the doctor for an appointment (thankfully). She stood in a long line at the pharmacy for some meds. June had given her objection to raise the poor man. She wanted to keep her out of this as much as possible and said that Peter himself should be the one to wake the man for the case. And she wished that he should get a migraine first before he was allowed to judge about Neal's wellbeing. She also said that the bureau should whack their heads hundred times with a baseball bat to feel what the boy was going through right now. And she was probably right.

When Peter was let into the hall he found Neal and June on the couch. Neal sat upright, alright. But he didn't look good. With the cup of coffee clamped in both hands and a large sunglasses that covered half of his face, he looked horrible. His wavy hair hung over his face and June sat beside him with a deep frown. She stroked the man tenderly over his shoulder. And Peter swallowed hard at the reproachful gaze of the older woman. She was still mad at him.

"I hope that the case is worth it. The poor boy was not happy when I told him that you came back for him. And yes, I woke him, after all. Only to provide Neal from your forcibly shake that would only make him sicker." She rose from the couch and walked down the hall to disappear again in one of the large rooms. Peter watched her leave with a stunned face.

Then he let his hands rest on his hips as he stared at the sleepy guy. Neal hung his head and took small sips of coffee. He seemed smaller than usual. Him stomach dropped.

"Neal ... I-I'm ..."

"I know, Peter ... Duty calls, hm?" Neal whispered soft and broken. And that made Peter even fell more sorry.

"I'm sorry, kid. But see it as a compliment. We need you at the office for your special skills." Peter smiled and sat beside him on the bench because Neal made no move to get up. With one hand he soft patted his knee. Neal apparently waited for a better explanation of why he could not just take one sick day. The first sick day that Peter himself almost urged him to take. So Peter decided to give him some more information. That was the least he could do for the poor guy.

"There is a new case. It is about a jewel thief. We are trying to catch him for a while but he always knows how to disappear under our noses. And apparently you know him. Michael Brendan. Does that name ring a bell?"

Neal groaned annoyed by that name. That said enough for Peter.

"Bells ringing," Neal lamented and put his coffee on the table and began to massage his temples.

"I'm sorry Neal. Hughes thinks that there is not much time left before he disappears again. We need Nick Halden to provoke this man out. We really want him behind the bars."

Peter continued to stare at the younger man. There was no other response than a soft whimper when Neal continued massaging his temples.

"Do you think you can do this with the state you are in? ... Neal? "

"Do I have a choice?" Neal replied shortly. And Peter had nothing else to say back.

Neal nodded. He wanted to be clear. Peter saw the way his back straighten. But something prevented him to sit upright. And Peter frowned.

"Seriously, Neal. You think you can handle it? I can always say that you are too sick. After all, Michael is just a thief. No murderer. It can wait." Neal disapprovingly waved his hand to this idea. Again Neal straightened his back, with a soft moan.

"It ... it's okay," Neal said softly. A faint smile appeared on his face. Followed by a yawn. Peter frowned concerned.

"Don't get angry with me, Peter. But I had taken maybe a little bit too much sleeping pills for my own good. I ... my brain works a little slower now, I'm afraid." And Peter nodded. That was what he saw. "I am not angry at you. Only concerned." Neal nodded slowly.

"And the pain?" Peter asked with a low voice. Neal sighed and grasp at his sunglasses until it came off his pale face. Two large black pupils were visible. The left was slightly larger than the right. Peter was a little shocked.

"It is only concentrated on one side, now. The pain. But ... does not stop ringing." Neal responded remarkably slowly. As if he had trouble forming his words. Neal then looked into the cup on the table that stood before him.

"This is my third cup. I think it worked a little."

Peter nodded. Though he believed that his partner was not quite fit enough for a stage game with an old contact that apparently was not a good friend. Neal's eyes told him that already.

"Good. Do you need anything from your room, before we get in the car? "

Neal laughed and looked at his dirty suit from the crawl attempt, earlier that day.

"Calm down, Peter. First I need to fresh me up, a little. Give me some time." When Neal made an attempt to stand up Peter gave him a push and supported the younger man to the stairs.

After minutes that seemed like hours, Peter decided to check on Neal. The office had called twice, already. The first time it was Diana. They had found some fingerprints from Michael. And the man shape on the tape confirmed that Michael was the guy. The second time the phone rang it was Jones. He told Peter what to do to get Neal quickly back on its feet, again. He spoke of two raw eggs into a glass with Cola. Again with his Cola. Peter had said he would try, but did not dare to let Neal take a sip of raw eggs. So that Neal could throw it up in his car, again? No way!

After that he had called his wife. She was on her way with the real drugs.

The door of Neal's apartment was open and Peter heard some stumbling sounds.

"Everything okay in there?" Peter asked with a grim voice. He was not really a good at hiding his impatience. Especially when it came to Neal, for some reason. But he also felt the pressure of work on his shoulders.

In the meantime, there was no reply from his partner. And Peter tried again, while he climbed up some steps.

"El called earlier. My wife has bought some medicine for you. She will be here in five minutes. It may help you a bit. "

"That's thoughtful, Peter," Neal's voice suddenly cracked. He sounded tired. But the man suddenly stood in the doorway with a new and fresh dark blue suit. Peter stared at him a moment before he walked backwards down the stairs. Neal looked good. Normal and tidy as ever. Peter could barely see traces of his previous migraine problems. The only thing that brought his attention were the sunglasses and missing tie. It took some time for Neal to come downstairs. When the doorbell rang loud Peter saw the younger man cringed down with a soft moan and rubbed at his frowned forehead.

That had to be Elizabeth. A housekeeper walked past them and quickly opened the door. Both men looked to the hallway and Elizabeth came into the picture with a paper bag full of medicines and a wide gentle smile. It made Peter and Neal just speechless. She looked so fresh and beautiful. It was like the spring began in the middle of this aisle.

"Hello Hun. It was a bit busy, at the pharmacy. How are you Neal? Neal nodded friendly and wanted to say something but Peter cut him off.

"That's fine, honey. Thank you for doing this for our Caffrey." He kissed his wife and took the paper bag.

"That's a lot of drugs, Elizabeth. You did not have to do this. My head feels much better already, now," Neal said polite. But Elizabeth gave him a sideways glance.

"I can see that. Nice sunglasses. Oh sweetie, look at you. Don't be so hard on yourself and allow your body some extra help with these drugs. The green box seems to give you immediate relief. That's what you have to take. Trust me. "

Peter rummaged in the paper bag and found the green box. There was a name that he could not even speak out loud. He tried it but it came out wrong that caused El and Neal to chuckle. But he read fast through the volatile dosage and began to search for a glass of water. Peter did it all so rushed that El stared at him even with a grimace.

"Peter, would you take it easy. You'll give me a migraine just by looking at you."

After an apology to the conman and his wife Peter handled Neal a glass of water and two large yellow tablets. Neal had difficulty swallowing them down but when that happened, El did her goodbye's and took off. Only a few minutes later Peter and Neal both walked to the Taurus again. When Peter started the car, Neal immediately fell asleep and he decided to let him sleep until they arrived at the office. _At least he wasn't vomiting._

For the third time today Peter parked his car in front of the large building. Halfway through the ride Neal was startled awake when Peter had driven over a bump and he was apparently clear enough for a good discussion about the plan to catch the jewel thief without any action or unnecessary violence.

Together they got into the elevator and Peter was happy that his partner returned a little more color on his still to pale face. He still wore his sunglasses. But he took them off when he met Hughes, Jones and Diana at the doors of the elevator.

"Hey, Neal. Glad to see you again. And before you get yourself involved in this case I want to know I'm sorry and you can expect something in return. We will make sure that you'll be back at home as soon as were finished. Diana looked over this case and is willing to assist you." Hughes gave the man a fierce friendly pat and made his way back to his own office. Neal continued to look at Diana and waited until she started her conversation that had to do with the thick dossier she clutched under her arms. Peter pushed Neal further into the room and said that he will get some more coffee for him.

"I suppose that Peter has told you some things about this case, already?" Diane asked monotonous and direct. She didn't look alienated at Neal when he put on his sunglasses, again. Apparently she was also informed about his migraine.

"Michael Brendan. Ex-goldsmith. Owner of a gallery. And buyer of an original early work of Gustav Klimt. Painting was stolen and since then Michael went off of the toad." Neal smiled at the beautiful woman. But Diana turned up her nose at him.

"Good. And you have ever done business with him?" she asked. Her expression was tight and almost emotionless. Neal nodded and shoved both hands in his pockets while he was rocking on the heels of his shoes.

"I do not know where the painting is, if that's what you mean." That remark was rewarded with a smile and she nodded her head.

"That was not what I meant, but thanks for the info, Caffrey." She started to browse in the file and Neal looked for a place where they could sit down. He saw that his own office was equipped with two chairs and ran toward it. Assuming that Diana would follow him. And she did.

Peter followed them with a big mug of coffee for Neal. And thankfully Neal took the mug. He didn't have a monster headache anymore. But he was very fuzzy from the sleeping pills he took. He wanted to be alert and continue with this case. Especially when he was working with Diana. Behind Neal, Peter went away. Neal caught himself and that he didn't mind. Maybe had seen the man too often today. Maybe he distracted him too much.

"Now you're here, Neal, it would be nice if you just focus yourself on this file," grumbled Diana. He looked at her apologetically and sat upright in his chair. He didn't even realize that he was sitting like a dump drunk. He was ashamed opposite Diana and Diana began to chuckle.

"Don't worry, Caffrey. I drag you through it. That man is at least fifty right? That we can handled it with just the two of us." Neal shared a smile but he began to take bigger sips of his coffee. The mug bumped against his sunglasses when he had drunk it empty at once. Suddenly Diana pushed the sunglasses back on his nose. "So. Is that better? " she asked the CI. Neal nodded, confused. She was strong and smart but he also saw her feminine sympathy occasionally in situations like this. It was only to be expected that three seconds later, the case file smacked against his head with a grin. "That's the spirit, wimp," she laughed.

Neal could do not even respond when Hughes suddenly walked out his office.

"Okay, we have a new location. West from the previous robbery. Peter, Jones. Take the advantage and catch him if you can. He can't go far. And Diana, Neal?" The older man was looking for eye contact with Diana and the officer stood.

"Yes, boss?"

"Ride behind the others. Just in case Nick Halden is necessary to drag him out. Neal, if someone recognize you as Nick or Neal, stay in your role. Agree on a place where you can corner him so that Peter and his team can grab him. Stay close to the team and Neal." Neal looked up at his boos and put down his sunglasses. His eyes were red rimmed and he blinked four times in one second.

"Yes, Boss?"

"Don't be a hero for ones, Neal. You're not at your best, today and this is a simple mission, Caffrey. Make sure you're alert enough, " Hughes replied.

"Of course, Sir. You have my word," Neal said and grinned a little but Hughes was already gone back to his office. Neal Just shrugged and stride to the elevator with Diana.

And they left immediately. Plan or no plan. This was a matter of improvisation. And Neal had the fullest confidence.

AN: Well .. I do not know with this chapter. It is so slow ... like there is no tension in it. Or is it just me? Nice not nice? Let us know!

X

Josi


	4. Chapter 4

It all happened so fast. By the time he and Diana were in place Neals' anklet was removed and Peter and his team walked to the relevant store. It was fortunate that there was taken precautions to detect Michael Brendan. One of the largest sapphires, surrounded by the purest gold, in environs, had been fitted with a microchip. When all jewelers were warned of a possible burglary the FBI knew that it was just a matter of time for the man to make a mistake. There was a clear signal and moved towards the east of New York. It was amazing how fast this man could travel. "Ya well… Maybe he has a Batmobile," Neal joked over the phone with Peter. Peter was not amused.

Catching this guy was therefore a very different story, of course. And that went wrong several times already.

It was almost like a cartoon.

That's why they needed Neal so much. It was a shame how often this man always outsmarted them. And it was not strange that they wanted him behind bars already. Because this thing was getting old.

Neal knew that something was feeling very wrong for being used as bait. Mozzie would have said that he was nothing more than a FBI lapdog these days. His exact words were: "Neal. You might be out of the cell, but you've still got less freedom, my friend. You're first class thief sunk to a disabled lap dog of the FBI."

And how paranoid his friend Mozzie was, disabled lap dog came pretty close to the truth today. He knew that all too well.

The phone rang. Neal equally startled out of his musings and fumbled in his pocket. It was Peter and Diana just shared a glance, and Neal put the phone on speaker.

"Go ahead, Peter."

"Neal. Michael sits somewhere near the restaurant Salvador. But the signal begins to weaken. He Possibly sits deeper in the ground." Diana bit her lip.

"The sewers?" With those words Neal pulled up his nose.

"Great," he muttered, maybe just a little too hard so Peter could hear him. He replied with a chuckle.

"That's a possibility, Diana. But Jones and I were thinking of the wine cellar. The building is old. The walls are more likely to be constructed from an iron skeleton, inside the cement. This can easily cause interference. Neal? Maybe we can surrender him in the restaurant and Nick Halden will be not necessary. How's your head?" Neal rubbed his left temple and nodded without noticing that Peter could not see him. Diana answered his question with: "Well, he's still attached to his neck, if that's what you mean. He's all right, boss."

"What she says," agreed Neal with a softer voice.

There was a pause at the other end of the line. Diana and Neal listened attentively to the voice of Peter and Jones was obviously agree with him.

"That's nice, Neal. Diana. Ride on ahead and wait for us. We are behind you. The signal is stopped. Michael is definitely inside the restaurant. Neal. Stay in the car until we contact you, okay? Maybe we are lucky, this time."

"Okay," replied Neal, and frowned at the fact that the signal stopped. Possibly the chip was discovered and Michael was long lubricated while they were sitting here chatting on the phone.

"Okay, boss. See you there." Neal pressed the phone and made a side glance to Diana. On her face was the same question readeble. With a frown she started the engine again and drove faster, and that made Neal obviously not happy.

Since it was a beautiful sunny day the terrace was full of happy people. The peaceful atmosphere was shattered when Diana stopped her car with a screeching halt. Followed by a second car.

Neal grabbed the dashboard with both hands when the engine went out and he was pretty sure that Diana did this on purpose. His face was as green as the grass when he looked at her with a stunned backward glance. Diana just grinned.

"Ugh, I have to throw up," lamented Neal and Diana grin only got wider.

"There must be toilets in the restaurant, Caffrey. Go ahead." Neal shook his head and sighed disappointed.

"It does not hurt to show some of your feminine side ones and awhile, Diana."

"Okay. Darling. Vomit in the toilet. Not in my car. Is that better?" She smiled and stepped out of her car. "And when you're done, go back in the car and wait for a signal from Peter, understand?" Neal nodded.

With her badge visible on her belt Diana stepped out of the car and accompanied Peter and Jones who were explaining to the people what there was going on. Some of the people stood up and leave scrupulous.

For a moment Neal just stayed in the car and took in a deep breath. A burning sensation in his throat told him what to do. But he didn't want his colleague to see him this weak and waited until she was inside the restaurant, along with the rest of the team. When the coast was clear, and Neal was afraid that he couldn't hold it in much longer, so he pulled himself out of the car. His head was spinning just the moment he was vertical. And the smell of gasoline and burning rubber of the tires didn't made it any easier to stay upright. But he quickly gained his balance back. And he was okay enough to get back to his mission. With fluttering eyes he took in the loud mess around the restaurant. By now everyone was on the move, instead of enjoying the day with a drink.

The terrace that less than a minute ago was full and peaceful, walked empty. People began slowly to rise from their place and looked around with a stressed look on their faces. Again his burning throat expressed himself and he decided to rush before the real action started and Neal began to walk toward the decline. He almost bumped against an elderly woman. After a hasty excuse the older woman grabbed him worried by the wrist to ask what was going on and if he was okay. Neal had looked at her with a smile and said that everything was fine. But when he took of his sunglasses to look her in the eyes she was shocked even more by his dilated pupils and pale face. Although she was not really reassured by his words, the elderly woman let him go. Neal blinked at her sheepishly and resumed his pace, to the decline of the crowded restaurant. When approaching the door he noticed that the sickening feeling had subsided. But he decided to refresh, anyway. A bit of cold water in his face did miracles sometimes.

* * *

Neal was a man with many faces. He always felt how far he could go. He dared to do the unexpected and always managed to do this without getting hurt or busted. Neal always went a step further where the rest stopped. And above all he knew how to stay alive and save. That made him such a good conman. If Mozzie asked why he was so good at his job, what the strange bald guy only asked when he was very tipsy or incredibly drunk, Neal told him that it was because of his good collaboration between his mind and instincts.

And this time ... he just felt that something was wrong.

Assuming that it was just because of his migraines and artificial drowsiness, Neal tried to ignore this feeling when he looked down the stairs. The toilets were located one floor down, oddly enough. And there was no elevator. In a quick thought, he realized that disabled people could not use the facilities here. But perhaps there was a special toilet for them on the ground floor. Neal shook his head to think clearer and walked down the stairs.

The small narrow windy stairs to the toilets was dark but pleasant for Neal's sensitive eyes. The creaking door brought him straight to the four major basins and Neal let out a sigh when he took his sunglasses off because of this dim light. When he saw himself in the mirror, he almost laughed aloud. He didn't look good. With its narrow flexible fingers he touched his protruding cheekbones and he saw the dark circles around his eyes, whose pupils were almost black. It was strange to see himself looking like death when he was feeling better already then a few hours ago. The pills Elisabeth had brought him surely did a good job.

Neal unconsciously started humming an unknown tune while he let the tap run and he made a bowl with his hands to cup the water. With a quick and careful movement he hit some of the water in his face. It was so nice and cool that he had to close his sensitive eyes for a moment.

Then the door creaked. Opened and closed. Followed by certain and rapid footsteps. Neal barely had a chance to even turn himself when he suddenly felt a strong blow on the back of his head.

"Oemf!"

Almost immediately his body searched his way to the ground in an awkward bounce motion. He got nasty hit with his chin against the sink. And even though Neal tried, he could not control his limbs. With a quick glance in the mirror before he completely lost his senses, he recognized the square silhouette of Michael Brendan ...

There had only a few minutes passed since Neal had lost consciousness. He felt horribly dull and numb before he opened his eyes. For a moment he felt no headache. No nausea.

_"Nick ..."_

When Neal slowly managed to get himself under control again he felt that he was lifted upside down. The pressure in his throbbing head increased dramatically when Neal realized that he was hanging on someone's shoulder.

It was dark. And cold. When Neal held out two fingers to one side of the gray walls, he felt that the wall was damp and wet. It smelled even clammy and damp. These fungal fruity aroma almost made him sick, until the person that carried him had stopped walking.

_"Throw him over there, Chuck."_

Neal felt himself thrown of the shoulder and the concrete floor welcomed him with a painful thud. And drowsy or not. I hurt!

"Aaahhh."

"So, Nick. Glad you're back with us, boy, " came the voice again. He had heard it a few times but only now it had gotten his full attention. With great difficulty Neal slightly scrambled himself up from the cold floor. A new pain arose in his shoulder when he tried to straighten his back. It just was not his day today.

It was still pitch dark. And Neal was somewhere very grateful for it. It gave him at least a little protection.

"Michael? I wish I could say that I was glad to see you. But ... " Neal began softly. His voice sounded terrible unrecognizable. When he talked, he felt his head pounding harder. Yep ... He definitely gained a concussion.

Immediately there was shuffling. Like gnashing noises caused by the friction of pebbles and shoe soles. Michael took some distance from him and there was suddenly a hard "click" from some sort of switch. Then a light bulb flickered on above him. It was so bright and so suddenly that Neal groaning in pain and covered his sensitive eyes with both hands. In a glimpse he saw a few wobbly shoes. Michael was not alone. He had brought someone. Someone named Chuck, if he could remember it well.

The two men were apparently pleased at the sight of a slightly shy conman. Both men laughed a while to.

"I had just been talking about you with my friend Chuck. I said Gee, Chuck ... what a lot of trouble for a simple job. All those police. All that stuff ... And then there was Nick Halden. Alive and well. Coincidence?" Neal licked his lip and tasted the coppery taste of blood on his tongue. He must have bitten the inside of his lip when he caught that blow, back in the mensroom.

"I do not really think that this is a coincidence, Nick." The man sounded calm and entertained. Neal frowned. Slowly he ventured a glance through the surroundings. The light didn't go very far in this dark room and he felt extremely helpless. But how dire the situation was, Neal continued to keep his game face on.

"Why do you think that, Michael? Can't a man like me enter a crowded restaurant without being accused of everything you can't handle?" Neal closed his eyes again when he heard the big man approaching. With two strong arms he pulled Neal's arms behind his back.

"Come on, Nick. How stupid do you think I am?"

Neal could not move with in this strong grip. Some fear made his head go clearer. With the realization that he wasn't actually all alone in this situation, he grinned. He knew the others were here too. Peter, Diana and Jones. Even though he knew was not exactly able to defend himself, not physically at least, there was always another way. _Try to con your way out, of course._

"Okay, Michael. Listen to me." Neal opened his big eyes again and peered once more trough it to suck in the environment. Everywhere he looked there were wine racks with empty and full bottles. There were no windows and the only exit was in the hall where the big guy named Chuck stood with is muscled back turned to. Chuck squeezed harder in his arms when Neal his eyes tried to look at him.

"I listen, lad." Neal got accustomed again to the square shaped man.

"The Sapphire necklace that you just stole, is chipped. The police can identify you with a monitor and already circling around in this building. I saw them. Michael. I swear. I tell the truth. This is important. Did you get the necklace? Do you got it, here? I'll prove it." With his big eyes he looked at the man. For a moment he was staring back in his blue eyes.

Michael made as stringent eye contact with his partner.

"That's impossible. I always look out for chips and shit. You're lying." His eyes darted from Chuck to Neal and Neal saw that the man was beginning to doubt. The tight grip on his arms became less now.

"Believe me, Michael. Check it yourself. Look on the back of the Sapphire. I'm not lying. Why should I?" Michael just laughed at that. "You're funny," he said. But after a consideration the older man pulled out a phone out of his pocket. With one press of a button he had gotten another guy on speaker with an tick Russian accent.

"What is the name of the agent with the brown eyes?" asked the jewel thief monotonous. He looked at Neal with icy eyes. With a short and quick answer from the other side of the line the man broke the connection and looked at Neal, still icy. Neal just felt that this was not going well. It was that look. That look that Kellar also had when the man decided to go kill him.

'Chuck. Look into his mobile. Search for the name Peter Burke. And call him, will you." Chuck nodded and grabbed with a large hand in one of Neals' pockets. Just like that the nausea came back and Neal started to swallow hard. He was just about to puke when Chuck chuckled.

The phone number of Peter was on the speed-dial. It was easy to find the name. And when Chuck let him go, he threw the phone towards Michael. Michael caught it effortlessly from the air and pushed his right ear against Neals' mobile.

* * *

"The signal is stopped again, Peter. I do not get it," Jones proclaimed. Peter nodded. He was a little frustrated because this house appeared to have two basement entrances. They were fixed on the wrong one apparently. Michael Brendan had gotten the chance to flee if he had discovered the chip already.

Meanwhile, the entire restaurant was empty. Jones peered over the empty hall with empty tables seconds ago it all was still occupied. It was always amazing how quickly people in a group respond when there was action. Peter growled in frustration and was about to give his team new orders when his cell phone suddenly rang. The phone had that special tune. An alarming frantically ringing tune that he had especially had picked out for Neal. So he always knew when his partner called. The tune had never really reared. It was meant as a joke.

This time it wasn't. With volatile fingers he pressed the green button and stared at the emptiness as if he expected the younger man before him would appear with the push of a button.

'Neal? Where are you? Did you see Michael come out? " He waited for an answer. The phone crackled and rustled. When the line was abruptly broken and a strange anxious feeling gnawing in his stomach.

"Peter? What is it? " Diana asked, startled at the sight of Peters' face becoming paler.

"It's Neal. Something isn't right. They have him."

There was a silence.

"Jones, take the other side of the basement. Diana go with him. I call Hughes for backup. "

* * *

It was Cristal clear, now. Michael heard Neal's name fall on the other side of the line and decided to destroy the phone. With wild eyes he looked at Neal.

"Well well well. So you're one of them, aren't you, Neal?" The man stroked his tousled hair and walked two troubled times around his axis. Neal held his breath anxiously. He knew that this wasn't going to be fun. He was at least lucky that the man wasn't in possession of a firearm.

Chuck grabbed him tightly and grunted angry as Neal struggled. It was obvious that everyone in this room grew a little nervous.

'Chuck. Give him the necklace. We put it on him." And Chuck just nodded. With a jerk he pulled him off the ground and Neal looked at him fiercely in the eyes. He felt his hot breath on his face blown. It was truly a frightening man. He was only worrying when the man changed his grip on him to get a grip in his pocket. Chuck took a handful of his wavy dark hair and hold him tight. Neal made no effort to free himself because otherwise he was afraid that his entire scalp would come off if he did. The Sapphires necklace came out the pocket and Chuck wanted put it on roughly. But Michael stopped him.

"Stop. Let me do it, Chuck." And Chuck nodded as the trembling younger man turned to Michael. For a moment the two shared a glance, and Neal was pretty sure what was going to happen.

Neal shook his head, speechless. He had no idea what he should to say, right now. All he could do was praying that the pain wasn't gonna be too bad. Neal bit his bleeding lip and blinked his watery eyes. He cried. Not sadness or fear. It just happened. Neal just hated violence.

And that was exactly what Michael was hoping for. He had cried too. Like him, when he knew that Nick Halden or _Neal_ had something to do with the robbery of his Klimt. Chuck had taken such of a firmly a grip on Neal's arms that he couldn't felt them anymore.

"Do your best. Take a hit, Michael. This is nothing compared to what the police will do with you when they've finally gotten you. And they would hear that you bruised up one of their best agent." These words made Michael almost red hot. And Neal could now only hope that Peter and his team arrived with a surprise attack in one storm of agents and stuff. But… Unfortunately ... that did not happen.

Michael clenched a fist and grunted when he punched hard in the stomach. In an instant, Neal could not breathe and hung like a sack of potatoes in the strong grip of Chuck. He must had gotten in some sort of blackout, because when Neal was aware of the environment again he lay on his side against the cold ground. Everything in his body felt broken or bruised and Neal had a moment to take a few deep to breathe. It seemed quiet. He seemed to be alone. But this dismal situation was still not over. For the second time Neal felt a hand on his head again. Someone with a strong grip took him by his hair and hoisted him up. It was so painful that Neal screamed ones. He tried to help himself up to lessen the pain but it was very difficult. But finally he stood face to face with Michael. Michael told him something that Neal had realized that he could not hear him talk. As if he was underwater. And as if he watched a strange wavy world.

He had the necklace on. He didn't even saw him putting it on. He was scared by now. and helpless. Neal didn't like that feeling. It was so not him. And how much Neal wanted to say something clever ... to atleast make him shiver again, the only thing that came out were cramped raspy sounds and eerily swirling coughed. Splashes of his own blood splattered in Michaels' face when he again got a bang. This time right in his face.

"This is for the Klimt, bastard," growled the squarely built man.

And that was the last thing Neal heard.

* * *

**AN: I want to write a happy ending. But, I thought you guys just have to be able to take this bullying to wait till next time ;) review and stay tuned!**

**X**

**Josie**


	5. Chapter 5

When Diana and Jones descended the stairs fast, Jones suddenly stopped running for a moment.

"What, Jones? Come on. "

"One moment," replied Jones distracted and walked into the men's room. Diana was pretty sure Jones was not stupid enough to take a leak in the middle of an arrest. He just followed his feelings. Jones was more looking for Caffrey than finding Michael Brendan. Jones had never ignored orders of Peter. Only when his instincts signaled him something, he did his job differently. Diana could relate at Jones gut feeling. The gnawing feeling in her stomach told her the same. Michael was long gone, by now. With or without Caffrey.

So she stood and waited with her gun back into his halter. And it didn't took long before Jones came back with Neal's sunglasses.

"He's been here, alright. I'm pretty sure there was some kind of struggle. There's blood on one of the sinks." Jones looked worried. His dark eyes fluttered in the faint light.

"That's not good," Diana replied with a frown.

She wobbled nervously with the heels of her shoes. Without words the two agents run down the to cellar accelerated. And this time without their guns.

It was not difficult for them to confirm their selves, that Michael Brendan was long gone. It was death quiet down this basement. Jones was the one that found the light switch and clicked it on. They half expected to see a tied up Neal strapped to a chair with a rag in his mouth. Scared and sweaty. But what they saw was far more worse.

He was nothing more than a lifeless shadow; Neal was on his side against the wall on the floor. Motionless. Curled up and bloody.

"My God," stammered Diana and began searching for her phone with trembling fingers. Jones rushed to the lifeless heap kneeling to check on his pulse.

"He's still alive. Just unconscious, thank God. " Diana sighed relieved just before Peter was on the other side of the line. The connection was bad but she could hear the worried tone in her boss's voice.

"Did you get him? Michael, I mean?" Diana sighed again. Diana thoughtfully turned himself away from Jones and Caffrey, attempting to erase the image from her memory and to keep her voice as tight as possible for her boss. Jones rolled the unconscious man on his back to look at his injuries. She was horrified seeing Neal's head lolling to one side in this process. His face was covered in blood.

"No. Sorry, Peter. He's gone. But ... we have Caffrey. More or less." She wanted to tell Peter cautiously about Neal's condition, when Jones suddenly interrupted her.

"Hey, Diana," cried Jones and Diana averted her gaze to her anxious colleague. The man had the Sapphires chain clamped between his fingers. It was the only evidence that Michael had left for them. _Besides the handprint on Neal's face. The poor man surely had a rough day._

While the voice of Peter grumbled through the phone Diana bit her lip in concern. She was not sure how to put the news a front Peter about Neal's state. Her eyes fluttered ones.

"Michael was here, Peter," she began with a grim voice. "He was here, of sure. And he managed to escape, from under our noses. But he has left a message for us." Her eyes were looked again at the unconscious man who now was now gently placed in the recovery position by Jones. His injuries were not cleary visible. But his face was covered in blood. Most of the visible trauma was concentrated around his nose, chin and on the back of his head. At first it seemed like the damage wasn't that bad after all. But Diana knew how treacherous head injuries could be. So she closed her eyes for a moment before she talked to Peter again.

"Peter. I think you'll better should come down here. Neal is badly beaten and unconscious. He wears the Sapphire necklace." Again Diana looked down onto the lying figure and sighed deeply. Jones was holding Neal's neck and slowly looked up at her with a deep frown.

"I think we need an ambulance," she added with a shaken voice. She had never seen Neal Caffrey all quiet like that. And she hated it.

* * *

You could always count on Peter when it came to speed. Within minutes he was with them, together with two paramedics. They quickly pushed Jones aside and started working. At the time that the unconscious Neal was hoisted on a gurney, Peter had called in the news to the office. Hughes was not happy. But also very concerned about the condision of Caffrey. Diana and Jones insisted Peter to accompany Neal on ride to the nearest hospital, so he just climbed into the ambulance. As soon as the stretcher firtstwas gently pushed onto the back. The ride was quiet. Peter stared at the slightly swollen face of his partner, no... _friend_. The paramedics already started to clean him up to examining the damage. Peter felt sick when he heard them say: "nose is _broken"_.

* * *

It had lasted two hours before Neal was done with all the brain tests and cat scans to look into all his injuries. And when Peter thought they were finally done, the young doctor found a large bruise on his abdomen and started talking about possible internal bleeding. But that was not the case, thank God.

Neal had regained consciousness when they were done examining and it was obvious that the young man suffered a hell of an concussion. But he knew his own name and could tell the nurse _how many fingers_. But the younger man surely was not himself when he started humming some kind of old Sinatra song. And stopped halfway when he realized what he just did. And after that he went quiet again. Maybe because he was embarrassed of himself, a front of his partner. Or maybe he was just death tired. And Peter only had to take one look in the face of friend to know the man was exhausted.

"That shall sting in the morning, ha partner," Neal slurred as he saw Peter stare at his battered face.

It could have been so much worse as Michael was armed. That was the first thing what Peter said when Neal awoke. And then Neal said something back that Peter pretended not to hear. He said something like: _"I didn't say I never had the Klimt. I had him for, like, I don't know… only five minutes. I swear."_

Silently Peter took his place beside his bed, after the nurse was gone.

There was a long silence. Neal let out a sigh en rested his empty head on his stuffy pillow.

The younger man didn't notice the tender smile on Peter's face when he stroked his fuzzy hair. Peter notice that they were wet from cleaning up his wound on the back of his head. It was stitched and he surely had lost some amound of blood out of that one. But that's just how it goes with head wounds. It bleeds like hell.

Neal's head hung into his touch and closed his squinting blue eyes. After a moment Neal just slumped his head to the side were Peter was sitting and stared tiredly at his amber eyes.

Neal's eyes were bright but his look was very off. And Peter started to chuckle.

"Everything alright, Neal?" he asked softly. "You look a little weird."

"I look _sleepy,_ Peter. I'm exhausted. Don't know why."

"You're tired because you managed to get a big bump on your coconut, remember? Concussions make you feel sleepy." With that Peter smiled again.

"Fine," Neal sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, Peter's smile disappeared.

"Are you in pain?" Then the younger man shook his head and gently started to touch the weird bandage on his nose.

"Besides my head feels like a balloon, or too empty… I feel better than I've felt all day, Peter." There was a faint smile on his cracked lips. His eyes suddenly grew heavier.

"I'm just very sleepy," he slurred softly.

Peter pulled his hand back from his friends head and leaned back in his chair as he unconsciously remembered the morning. He suddenly felt slightly guilty about how he was acting. After some silence Peter touched Neal's head again. Neal opened his eyes again and let out a deep exhausted sigh.

"You are beaten up. And now you feel better than you felt this morning? Is a migraine really that bad?" asked Peter softer when Neal's eyes were getting smaller and cloudier again.

'Yep,' was his hoarse answer.

Peter just swallowed hard and watched how the younger man slowly fell asleep. The bandage on his nose caused Neal to breathe through his mouth. Small snoring sounds came out and Peter found himself in a softened smile.

He stayed a while, listening to the slow balanced breathing.

"Okay, Neal. I will not tease you again if you ever have another migraine," he whispered softly and gave the younger man a gentle pat on the head before he came out of his chair.

* * *

Fortunately there was good news when Peter came into the office the next morning. The jewel thief Michael Brendan was arrested after a bust, near Detroit. The man was transferred to New York for questioning and he will be adjudicated for his actions. Peter knew that the punishment for theft was not as high as the punishment for assaulting an FBI agent. Or CI, in Neal's case. Possible that he could do something for Neal .

Neal had stayed one day in the hospital for observation and seemed to recover quickly so at the end of the next day he was been discharged from the hospital. The first day out Neal was among the herding of Resort a la Burke and was quite spoiled by Elisabeth with delicious snacks and warm milk or cold compresses for his eerily blue colored and slightly swollen face and stinging headache. The rest of his free week he spent at June's.

The week flew by, however, and beside his still bandaged nose and light headache Neal was eager to go back to work, again.

But on Neal first day at work he heard that Peter himself had reported sick. He apparently had managed to twist his ankle while jogging in the park. Elizabeth had driven him to the medical center and was now in a huge cast that prevented him from walking.

"Peter Peter Peter ... Is not it true that 86% of the 100, that twisted an ankle while jogging are mostly women? Or were you running on Elisabeth's Pumps?" Neal asked with a grin on his face while calling the poor man.

"Yeah. I'll get it, Caffrey. Enjoy your sweet revenge. See you about two weeks, you bastard."

Neal just smiled and hung up the phone. It does feel good to tease someone ones and awhile. Especially when they deserve it.

End ;)

* * *

**AN: Occasionally it is necessary to tease. But not when they do not deserve it! It's just a light way to teach someone something of their one mistakes. For Neal, it was his good right, right? How did you like the ending? Tell me! And tell me if I should do another one. For now: Good bye!**

**X**

**Josie**


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